A few days had passed since I began researching the stigma amplifiers with Professor Jade.
The weekend had flown by in a haze of theories, arcane diagrams, and volatile compounds. Before I knew it, Monday had arrived.
Only one class was scheduled for today.
And it happened to be the most important course for third-year cadets—regardless of major.
Practical Combat Training.
A class that carried immense weight in determining cadet rankings. More than that, it was the first official step toward becoming a Hero.
As expected, it came with several unique characteristics.
First: it took absolute priority over all other classes. If the schedule changed or ran long, any overlapping lectures were considered automatically excused.
Second: the academy bore no responsibility for injuries—or deaths—sustained during training. The instructors were not liable. After all, this wasn't a school for scholars. It was a battlefield training ground for future Heroes.
And third: it lasted the entire day.
There were no set breaks. Meals and rest were given solely at the instructor's discretion.
In other words—
"Today's lesson is on mental fortitude. If you fail the morning assessment, you'll continue training straight through the afternoon—without lunch. Consider yourselves warned."
Despite how busy the past few days had been, I'd secretly looked forward to having lunch with Iris.
To do that, though, I'd have to overcome a familiar obstacle.
Professor Lucas.
Can't he let us eat just once?
I sighed deeply, glaring at the man standing at the podium with his usual devilish smirk.
"No lunch and a full day of class..."
"This is inhuman..."
"We already went through hell last week!"
Grumbles echoed across the classroom. I wasn't alone in my suffering.
Every cadet glared daggers at Professor Lucas, silently begging for mercy that would never come.
"What's with the looks? Got a problem with the schedule?"
"N-no, sir!"
"We have no complaints, sir!"
Naturally, our protests accomplished nothing.
"Jeez. It's not like I want to make you starve."
"Wait, but during the outdoor training—"
"That was your fault. You failed to prepare. Am I wrong?"
"..."
Silence. The truth stung.
Then Albert, poor soul that he was, hesitantly raised his hand.
"Um, Professor… you said no lunch break if we fail, right?"
"That's right."
"Then... isn't that basically skipping a meal...?"
"I said no lunch break. Not no food."
With a mischievous grin, Lucas pulled a transparent container from his coat and placed it on the podium.
Inside sloshed a green liquid that... bubbled.
Not from heat. It just bubbled on its own.
"This is a special juice I made myself. One drink of this will keep you full until dinner."
Silence.
Pale faces stared at the container like it contained poison—and frankly, it might as well have.
"Professor... what exactly is that?"
"I told you. Special juice."
"Yes, but... what's in it?"
"Haha."
"No, seriously. Please tell us."
"Albert, you're curious, aren't you?"
"I—I mean, yes, but—"
"Then come try it."
"W-wait—what?! No! I'm not curious at all!"
"But you just said—"
"I take it back!"
"Too late. Let's vote. All in favor of Albert having a taste, raise your hand."
Every cadet raised their hand.
Of course, I did too.
"Y-you traitors!"
Albert began trembling as Lucas advanced on him like a predator.
"Relax. It probably won't kill you."
"Probably?!"
Albert tried to flee. Lucas grabbed his shoulder and forced the concoction into his mouth.
"Gah! Ugh! Cough!"
He swallowed involuntarily, eyes bulging.
"Bleh!"
"Don't throw up."
"Wh-what even is this?!"
"Do you know what food is made entirely of protein?"
"...Chicken breast?"
"Wrong. This is better. Far better."
Lucas pulled out a second jar.
Inside, something wriggled.
"Bugs...?"
"Not just bugs. These are Republic-certified beetle larvae. Premium-grade, high-efficiency protein."
"So... bugs."
"Once it's in your stomach, nutrients are all the same."
Albert slumped into his seat, defeated.
He hadn't puked, but his pale face said everything.
The classroom fell into grim silence.
A new, unifying resolve passed through us all:
We will pass the test.
"Good. That's the look I want."
Lucas returned to the podium, satisfied.
"As I said, today's lesson is on mental fortitude. It's just as critical as physical prowess. A strong body means nothing if your mind breaks first."
He gestured toward the door.
"To that end, we have a special guest lecturer from the Department of Magic: Professor Morpheus."
Gasps followed the name.
"The illusion specialist from the Holy Kingdom?"
"He's a Hero!"
The door creaked open.
In stepped a man with chestnut-brown hair and an elegant gait. He looked young—too young—but Heroes aged slowly, and appearances could deceive.
"Nice to meet you, cadets. I'm Morpheus. I'll be guiding you through today's training."
His voice was soft, cultured. His smile almost warm.
He was everything Lucas wasn't—and instantly adored for it.
"The exercise is simple. Sit down, endure the illusion I cast, and if you last one minute... you pass."
"Just... endure it?"
"Yes. That's all."
Some cadets looked at each other, visibly relaxing.
It's just an illusion, they seemed to think. Knowing it's fake should make it easy to resist.
"Phew... better than beetle juice."
"That's what I'm saying."
But Lucas chuckled ominously.
"Professor Morpheus, perhaps a demonstration is in order?"
"Certainly. Any volunteers?"
"Albert here seems very enthusiastic."
"Wait—no, I never—AAAAAAGH!"
Lucas hoisted Albert up by the collar and dumped him in the chair.
"Don't worry. It's just an illusion."
Morpheus smiled gently, placing a hand on Albert's forehead.
"Close your eyes. Breathe. Relax."
Albert obeyed.
Ten seconds later—
"AAAAAAGH!!"
Crash!
He fell backward, screaming, eyes wide in unseeing horror.
"Please! Don't kill me! I—I surrender!"
Albert curled into a ball, sobbing.
Morpheus stepped back, expression unchanged, and waited.
After a minute, Albert shakily sat up, face red and drenched in sweat.
"A-Apologies, Professor..."
"No need. Most candidates react similarly their first time."
The mood in the room shifted.
The illusion that this would be easy had vanished like a popped bubble.
"Now then..." Morpheus's warm gaze swept the classroom. "Who would like to go next?"
The kind smile on his lips now looked far more sinister—like a grim reaper inviting us into the unknown.
His eyes settled on me.
"How about the candidate with the grey hair?"
He looked directly at me.
"Would you like to give it a try?"
The gazes of the surrounding candidates focused on me.
Was it because of everything that had happened over the past few weeks?
The eyes now on me weren't the scornful, disdainful looks I remembered from my previous life—they brimmed with curiosity and anticipation.
This is something I'm not used to yet.
It felt like slipping into a new pair of shoes—stiff and unfamiliar.
Having lived a life devoid of expectations, it was understandable I'd feel this way.
I'll have to get used to it eventually.
And honestly… it didn't feel that bad.
"Would you like to try?"
"No, I'll do it."
I stood and approached Professor Morpheus.
Just then—
"Um… Dale."
Iris gently tugged the hem of my sleeve.
She glanced around, then leaned closer and whispered softly, "If it gets too much, just shake your right arm. Lightly. Got it?"
"My right arm?"
"Yes. Just that."
I nodded. "Alright."
I wasn't sure what she was planning, but I didn't think she'd need to intervene.
A hallucination, huh.
How long had I endured it in my past life?
Too long ago to remember.
Not that it matters.
No matter what horrors I was shown, the outcome would be the same.
"Just sit comfortably and close your eyes," Professor Morpheus instructed.
I relaxed into the chair, eyes shut.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Then, let's begin."
He placed a hand over my eyes—
This is…
A crimson wasteland.
Sticky humidity clung to my skin. The stench of blood stung my nostrils.
The world I knew vanished, replaced by severed limbs and mounds of corpses.
So this is Professor Morpheus's hallucination magic.
Impressive. Almost too real.
Even knowing it was fake, the scene made my stomach churn—severed torsos, gaping wounds, maggots crawling through eye sockets.
This can't be all.
If it were only gore, Albert wouldn't have screamed like a madman.
—Squelch.
A wet sound echoed in my ear.
There it is.
I turned—and froze.
"What the…"
A mass of slimy green tentacles wriggled forward.
Eighteen eyes glared from a grotesque creature with tendrils sprouting from every limb.
—Squelch, squelch.
Pus dripped from its flailing limbs, the air thick with rot.
Now I get why Albert lost it.
Even I, who had faced horrors beyond reckoning, felt bile rise in my throat.
"SCREEEEEEEECH!"
The beast shrieked and charged.
Its yellow ooze sprayed across the crimson ground.
Even though I knew it was fake, the urge to scream was real.
"Hoo…"
I took a slow breath.
It's just an illusion.
I remembered snow-covered wastelands. The cold silence of comrades who would never rise again. Visions I conjured to fill my loneliness.
Compared to those ghosts… a disgusting mass of tentacles wasn't much.
This is nothing.
Compared to the deaths I've faced.
-Sizzle!
Suddenly, pain burned across my chest.
"Guh—"
The Primordial Flame flared, igniting the stigmata.
Why now? This wasn't resurrection—why was it reacting?
Before I could think, the hallucination changed.
"SCREEEEEECH!"
The tentacle monster disintegrated, consumed by invisible fire.
The corpses and gore burned to ash, scattered like embers in the wind.
Did the Primordial Flame do that?
Even I wasn't sure what just happened.
The bloodied landscape faded, and I found myself once again in the lecture hall.
"Well… this is surprising."
Professor Morpheus stared at me, eyes wide.
"I didn't expect you to break my hallucination."
He looked me over like he was seeing something impossible.
"Haha… I've been teaching for decades. This is a first."
Some cadets resisted the spell briefly—some were even immune. But breaking it?
Only Dale Han had done that.
"How did you do it?"
Good question.
I gave a lopsided shrug. "Who knows?"
"Hmm…"
"Anyway, I passed the test, right?"
Professor Morpheus chuckled. "Of course. In fact, this is worth extra credit, don't you think?"
"That'd be nice."
"I'd love to give it. But bonus points aren't my call…"
He glanced at Professor Lucas.
Lucas crossed his arms, watching me with a rare flicker of pride—then shook his head.
"No extra points that weren't pre-announced."
"Tch. Stingy."
"What, got a problem?"
"Wouldn't dare question the great Professor Lucas."
"Hmph. Anyway—those who pass are dismissed after morning classes. Challenge yourselves."
The classroom erupted into cheers.
Shortened classes—four syllables that delighted cadets more than victory itself.
"I'm going next!"
"Me too!"
"Looks easy enough!"
Confident voices rang out.
"Was Albert just being dramatic?"
"That's what I was thinking—"
But their smirking ended quickly.
"AAAHHHHH!"
"Eeeek!"
"HELP MEEEEE!"
"T-Tentacles—!"
Screams filled the room.
Professor Morpheus, wearing a beaming smile, nodded in satisfaction.
"Ah… youth is a beautiful thing."
After Morning Classes
"So only Dale and Iris passed?" Lucas frowned at the exhausted cadets.
"Camilla almost made it," he muttered, shaking his head.
Professor Morpheus laughed. "Those who failed… you know what's next."
He held up a jug of bubbling green foam. A special 'restorative' drink, in name only.
The cadets turned pale.
"Damn it…"
Camilla trembled, fists clenched.
"Five more seconds… just five more!"
She had endured nearly to the end—until the tentacles got bold.
"You were doing so well. What happened?"
"They… tried to enter somewhere they shouldn't have…"
"Your butt?"
"Y-You pervert!"
Camilla's face turned crimson. "How dare you make a lady say that!"
"What did I do?!"
"Hmph!" She turned away, arms crossed.
I sighed and began packing my bag.
Just as I reached the door—
"Dale~ You didn't forget our lunch, right?"
Iris approached with a warm smile.
"Of course not."
Since she'd passed too, our Monday lunch tradition continued.
"I'm glad you made it."
"This was nothing."
"If I thought you'd struggle, I planned to secretly cast my blessing."
"So that's why you said to shake my arm?"
She nodded, cheeks flushing.
Her blessing—resistance to mental magic—would've helped.
"But why didn't you give it to Camilla?"
"Well, even if she's a dear friend, tests should be fair."
"True…"
Still… why break the rules for me?
Wait.
Camilla had said the hallucination suddenly got worse just before she broke.
Iris's blessing… could it work in reverse?
Could she have lowered Camilla's resistance?
No way.
She wouldn't sabotage her friend. Would she?
"Since Camilla isn't here… it's just the two of us."
"Right."
"I already reserved the restaurant. Let's hurry before the food gets cold."
Iris walked ahead, humming softly.
Hehehe~
And for some reason… she looked more delighted than I'd ever seen her.